Dino Chronicles

This blog is named after my dog, Dino the wonder dog. Other than that, this blog doesn’t have a lot to do with him, except that some days, when I am just too busy or too tired or have a migraine, I let Dino write my blog for me. On days when he has not taken over the computer, I write about my life – the past, the present and the future - my travels far and near and my home. I would love it if you would follow along.

Friday, February 16, 2018

As I mentioned
here a few years ago, when I was a kid most of my friends were Catholic and
were obligated to give something up for Lent. It seemed that was all they
talked about for those six weeks before Easter. These days, I don’t hear anyone
mention it, but surely someone out there, devote Catholic or not, does something
every day throughout Lent to remind themselves of the suffering that Jesus
endured for us. I hope so at least.

I’ve been
thinking about it for a while – what should I give up this year? Something challenging
like chocolate (which I have done multiple times)? Something easier like
snacking between meals? Something less tangible like thinking badly of others?

A few years
ago, an acquaintance sent me a card a few weeks before Easter saying that she
was spending the forty days sending a card each day to someone she respected or
admired or who just might need a thinking of you card. That sounded like a neat
idea, then as now. Then the other day, someone
on Facebook asked what people do to grow closer to Jesus during Lent. One of
the responses was to literally give something up each day, find something around
the house each day that you no longer use or need and throw it out or donate it
to charity. Simplify your living space. Or even better, simply simplify your life.

I’ve taken
all of those thoughts into consideration and here is what I’ve decided to do in
honor of Lent this year.

First,
because it would be time-consuming and mind-numbing to go around the house each
day choosing one thing to discard, I will instead gather an entire box or bag full
of junk once a week to take to Goodwill or St Vincent’s. Or unfortunately throw
out because I actually do have a lot of junk around here.

Two years
ago I made a list of all the people from my past who I have lost touch with and
started trying to track them down. I found the obituary of one of them and
another one died suddenly before I got around to sending him a note. I did send
a letter to one person from college who I found on-line and he even wrote me
back. But there are still ten names on that list and I’m going to try to track
down every one of them before Easter and send them each a letter.

In addition,
I’m giving up Facebook. I know, what? Looking at the statistics for this blog,
I realize that most of you come here from the link I post on Facebook. I post it
to other social media as well, but not nearly as many of you come here from those
sites. It’s all Facebook for my followers. So, yes, I will still post my blogs
for all of you to find and follow. And I will open my personal Facebook page when
I am on-line but only to see if anyone is commenting on those few links or
mentioning me by name on some other post. I can’t afford to be a total hermit,
but I need to stop letting social media suck the life right out of me.

I don’t
know. I know that back in the day, when my Catholic friends were told they had
to choose something to give up eating or doing from Ash Wednesday until Easter
morning, the premise was to suffer like Jesus for those six weeks. But I don’t
think it should be about suffering as much as about realizing what matters in
this life and what doesn’t. All those posts and random thoughts that everyone
puts on Facebook as well as all the clothes in my closet and junk sitting
around my house really don’t amount too much, not as much as old college roommates
and former co-workers.

What else is
important? Spending time with family and friends – in person, not on-line.
Enjoying your favorite clothes that you wear all the time instead of those dresses
you wear once a year. Owning possessions which have a story to tell instead of being
things which take up space on a wall or a floor. Finding peace in the little
things. Living a simple life. Practicing all that for the six weeks of Lent, and
then holding onto it for the rest of the year.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Here it is Valentine’s
Day as well as Ash Wednesday. You would think that I could find something about
this day to write a blog post about. Yet, here I sit at my laptop sensing a
ramble coming on.

I usually
write my blog posts the night before and then post them first thing the next
morning. Last night, even though I got home from work a little after six and
had nothing special I had to do the rest of the evening, I never got around to writing
anything. After watching “Hawaii 5-O” with the hubby, while eating supper, I headed
to my office and spent the next few hours wasting time on the computer, talking
to a few people on line and looking at old family photos. I do not know where
some evenings go.

I’ve been
awake since four a.m. and finally got up at five, because my head was still
spinning trying to figure out what to write. For the last four or five years
(maybe more), my goal has been to blog on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. It
seems, that most weeks, those days work the best for me. I’ve altered that
schedule at times, but always fall back on that. Some days, when I really am at
a loss for ideas, I skip posting altogether, as I probably should be doing
today. I know, after all the reading I’ve done on writing, that even though one
should always keep writing, sometimes it’s better to keep it to yourself than
share it with others, such as when you have nothing to say.

Yet, here I
am, about to share this bunch of random fodder with you, because I guess I wanted
to give you a peak into my world, into what’s in my head at five a.m. when I
can’t sleep.

To go along with
it, here is an equally random photo, taken of me and my cat in my parent’s front
yard, circa 1969. Being oh so creative even then, already valuing the use of
words.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned
you by name; you are mine.

When you pass
through the waters, I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers, they will not
sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire, you will not be
burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. (Isaiah 43:1-2 New International
Version)

It’s been suggested, when a
person is feeling down, that they look for the good in every situation, or
better yet that they look for something to feel grateful for in every situation.
To write down, every day, at least one thing you are thankful for. And of
course, every day, I can think of dozens of things that I am thankful for.

Except for the days when I
feel cracked and broken, useless and ignored, defeated and unloved. And don’t tell
me that you haven’t had days like that too, coz I know you have. So, what’s a
person to do on days like that?

I decided that instead of
writing down all the cheesy things I’m grateful for, that I would start a journal
of the worst things that happen to me every day.

I know what you’re gonna say.
“What is wrong with you, Chris? Don’t be so negative. Looking at the bad stuff
is only going to drag you down more. You have to remember all the good things
that happen each day and don’t dwell on the bad.”

That’s what you would think.
But try it.

The first night, when I
started that journal last week, and I wrote down “#1 one of my patients was
admitted to hospice”, it dawned on me. Maybe that’s not the worst thing. He is
a sweet man who has had a hard life, maybe knowing his battle is almost
finished, that he will soon be falling into the loving arm’s of Jesus isn’t
such a bad thing.

Then I wrote down “#2 my
Achilles tendon continues to ache, sometimes more, sometimes less, but I’m
getting tired of it”. I actually brought this up to a patient that day when we
were talking about aches and pains, and we both realized that having aches and
pains in a heel or a wrist or a back means that you still have those body parts
and can still feel them. You haven’t had something amputated and you’re not paralyzed.
(The truly neat thing about that conversation was that at the end of it, this
patient said, “you must be a Christian”.)

I arrived at yesterday, and
added another thing to my growing list. “The boyfriend of a good friend died
last night.” And I got nothing, nothing good to say about that, no hidden
treasure, no secret lining. Nothing. And some days are like that but at the end
of those days, I still know I am a child of God and He is always with me.

Friday, February 9, 2018

I was going
through all the old family photos, trying to decide which ones to post and
around what theme. I’ve come across a lot of pictures of my mom, what a beautiful
woman she was, a dedicated mom, wife and sister. A year ago today, they discharged
her from the nursing home and we took her back to her apartment, where I stayed
with her round the clock (with lots of help from my brother and sister) through
the weekend. Two days after being home she realized that she just couldn’t make
it on her own anymore and two days after that we admitted her back to the
nursing home. Another two days later she was admitted to the hospital where she
died within hours. Weird how that all came down. Seems so long ago already.

As everyone
in the family knows, she hated having her picture taken. I mean, it is legendary
how much she despised it. I’m surprised I found all the good pictures of her
that I did. I guess she wasn’t always photo-phobic.

Sorry, Mom,
to post these all. (The only picture from her past that she told me she really
hated was her senior portrait, so at least I will honor her by not sharing that
one.)

1929 with her sister Helen

1935, the back of the picture reads "me with Billy S from Milwaukee"

1940s, when she was still in high school

not sure when or where

1946 with her Pa, Ma, Brother Robert and Sister Helen (Mom's on the right)

1948 with my brother Tom and sister Judy

1949 with Tom and Judy

1952 with Judy and Tom again

1959 with Tom, Judy, Dad and baby sister Pat

1968, finally a family picture of me (on the lower left), my sister Pat on the lower right, then Dad, Judy with her baby Paula, Tom and Mom

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

It’s been quite a while since I’ve shared
an excerpt from “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”. I’ve been trying to find pictures
from my own travels to Kenya which would fit one of the scenes. Since I have the
whole story already pictured in my head, sometimes it’s harder than one would
think for me to find the right actual photo out of the thousands I’ve taken.

The
camp was so small—three large tents, two small ones, a cement block outhouse,
and a cement block storage building—that it took only a few minutes for a tour.
Jenny found their large tent comfortable, though rustic. A full-size bed took
up the majority of the room. Nightstands ﬂanked each side of the bed and each
stand held a small battery-operated lantern. Across from the bed stood a small
dresser on which a pitcher of clear water, a large basin, and two sealed
bottles of drinking water waited invitingly.

She
poured a small amount of water into the basin and splashed it on her face. The
hand towel hanging from a bar on the side of the dresser was soft and smelled
of fresh air.

“Think
you can handle this for a few days?” Paul asked, trying out the bed. “No
running water, no hot shower?”

“It
will be ﬁne. It will be an adventure.”

The crazy thing is that I wrote this
scene sometime between my first and second safaris. The first time I went in
2006, we stayed at a luxury camp with running water, electricity and all the
amenities of a five-star American resort. It was nothing like the camp where I imagine
Jenny and Paul staying. After writing their story about Africa, I went on my second
safari in 2015, and we stayed at Manyatta Camp, where these pictures were taken.
I felt much more at home there, but it still wasn’t as rustic as what Jenny and
Paul experienced. My dream would be to actually camp out on the African plain. Maybe next time I’m there!

Let me know if you want to take a life-changing trip to Kenya. In addition to going on safari, you will have
the chance to change the lives of those living in poverty. This coming weekend we will begin planning this year’s trips with Tumaini Volunteers. You don’t want to be left behind!

(But if a trip to Africa is just not
on your bucket-list, you can still read about the adventures Jenny and Paul have
while they are there. Click here to get a copy of their story.)

Sunday, February 4, 2018

“For I know the
plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm
you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV)

On my January 14 blog post, I
shared that my “word of the year” is actually part of a verse from Proverbs 19.
The Lord’s plans prevail. Here it is just a few weeks later and those words
have totally escaped me.

As usual, I had a whole list
of things I had hoped to accomplish last week. I post my goals and how I succeeded
(or not) on the other blog which I maintain. (You can read about it here.) You
may have guessed, whether you read that other blog or not, that I did not reach
many of those goals last week.

It’s easy to mentally beat
myself up over that. I really have no good reason for not doing much last week,
I chose to be a couch potato and web surfer instead of being productive. But
for whatever reason, maybe I wasn’t meant to get much done. Maybe it was God’s
plan for me to just take the week off. Maybe (hopefully!), it is God’s plan for
me to be productive next week or the week after.

I have to place my failures
as well as my successes in God’s hands. He has got it covered, whatever I do or
don’t do.

Thank You, Lord, for having a plan for my life, for my
days. Help me to accept that it is Your will which will prevail and that all I
need do is follow where You lead. Amen.

In 1984, God led me to Castle Rock, Colorado. I'm glad He led me back home a few years later.

Friday, February 2, 2018

I don’t know.
Maybe the Winter Blues or Cabin Fever or whatever you want to call it has
attacked me. Or maybe I have given in to my inner lazy. Or maybe the day job
was just that crazy the last four days. Whatever the case, I haven’t done much around
home this week. Including blogging mid-week. And though I have a list of ideas
of things to blog about, I’m having a hard time getting that together too.

But here it
goes. Coz when all else fails, I can fall back on pictures of Kenya.

2006 and my
first trip to Africa, we ran a medical clinic for two of the days we were in
Maasailand. The girls are working in our makeshift pharmacy.

In 2013, my second trip, I got to work at the clinic in Saikeri for two days. I mostly observed the physician assistant seeing patients, but whenever any babies came in for their immunizations, I got to give them. Which was way cool, I thought.

While visiting the SIDP camp in 2015, we toured their medical clinic, which was started by some volunteers and never completed. Unfortunately, that is the way a lot of things go in Africa.

And last year, I just got to drive by a few medical facilities.

The Karen Hospital, in an affluent neighborhood, looks fairly respectable.

Then there are lots of little clinics and so-called hospitals along the side of the road.

I thought I should give you a close-up of what this particular clinic offers.

All these
various institutions are on my mind as, on my next trip to Kenya, I would like
to work at a clinic or host a medical outreach. I’m actually planning the trip
in my head and have talked to one of our hosts in Kenya and she would help me
put it together. I’m thinking of a trip for two weeks in the fall.

I’ve talked
to a few people in the medical field who have expressed interest in such a trip, but I need to start getting true commitments. If you or anyone you know would
like to join me on this adventure of a lifetime, shoot me a message. No medical
experience is required, just a willingness to help out where you can. We’ll be
sure to fit in a safari as well. It’s all pretty flexible right now, and is
always cheaper than you think.

Yup, just thinking about Kenya knocks out those winter blues.

I look
forward to hearing from you!

(For more information, click here to go to our website or here to like us on Facebook. Or lastly click here to learn more about our sister organization in Kenya, Marafiki Volunteers.)

Where the Sky Meets the Sand

An American businesswoman with a secret past. An African boy without a home. Two missionaries with more than one mission to accomplish. Will all their wishes come true where the sky meets the sand on the African plain?

Read about change and then join our nonprofit, Tumaini Volunteers.

My memoir asks the question "why am I here?"

Tumaini Volunteers

Change the life of someone living in poverty

The Christmas Story 40 day devotional

Do you know the story of the first Christmas, the entire story, not just what you have seen on Christmas specials or heard in Christmas hymns?

The 40 day devotional of the early life of Jesus

Jesus' life on this earth began in a humble stable, but then what happened?

How Did I Get Here?

I have always wanted to be a writer, but in 1986, I fell into the medical field and have yet to crawl out. After a lot of reflection, I realize that maybe health care is my calling, but what is my passion? Writing. I also have a passion for my Savior Jesus. What else do you need to know? I have a wonderful husband, two grown children, four cats, and of course, Dino the wonder dog. In my spare time, I enjoy sewing on a cloudy day and laying in the sun on a sunny day.